Make Me Believe
by Babydollunderthesky
Summary: If I told you I loved you, what would you say? Harry realizes that he has fallen in love with Hermione. Starts at the OoTP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I own nothing. Sad, isn't it? Ohwell, on with the story. It starts at their Fifth Year. I hope you enjoy it. Please Read & Review (:**

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER ONE

FIRST YEAR.

She was one of his bestfriends. She helped him, trusted him. And he trusted her as well. She helped him get past what other people believed impossible for three eleven-year-olds. She solved a riddle not meant to be solved. She was the smartest witch in their class. She was one of his bestfriends.

SECOND YEAR.

She scared him. She scared him when she was petrified. Scared him when he considered the possibility that she would never wake up and be her again. She had gone through it all for him. She'd made a potion unimaginable for children their age. She was brilliant. And after it all, when she was herself again, he couldn't stop thinking that. Thinking that without her, he was scared. Thinking that she was – well – bloody brilliant, if he said so himself.

THIRD YEAR.

She was there. She proved herself brilliant once more. But more than that, she was brave. A fighter with a purpose. She punched Malfoy! She helped him rescue Sirius. Went with him back in time, an experience he knew could never be topped by anything with anyone else. Time separated from her, from when he balanced between her and Ron, seeing as how the two weren't on speaking terms, it gave him an empty feeling. He wasn't used to that.

FOURTH YEAR.

She helped him beyond anything. God, it seemed like she was always helping him. And what did he do for her in return, exactly? That he wasn't sure of. All he knew was that when everyone else was jeering at him, and believed that he'd gotten himself into the tournament just to gather more attention, that she stood by him, which was more than he could say about a certain Ron Weasley. But still, things between him and Ron worked out after the first task. But he could still remember. All the time he and Hermione spent alone together in the absence of their friend. All the time he got to spend with her. Alone. It was something new. Something very new.

FIFTH YEAR.

He was almost losing it. Summer at the Dursleys was hell. Hell on earth. His temper kept flaring. Everything was terrible. He was attacked by dementors, and if that wasn't enough, he was expelled and called for a hearing at the Ministry. He still had nightmares. Cedric had died at the hands of Voldemort, who was now back. And no one believed a word he said. They thought he'd been lying about everything. Just trying to get more attention. He'd written letters to both Hermione and Ron, and it would've been better if they'd sent him nothing in reply, because each letter from them seemed to have the same response, full of garbage with nothing useful. He had to _wait_, it seemed. It wasn't _safe_ for information like that to be sent by owl. But then he was picked up; more like rescued in his opinion. And that was how he came to know about Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was ready to shout. Ready to scream. Let all the frustration and anger out on his two bestfriends. Or just friends. In his mind bestfriends wouldn't have kept him in the dark. Bestfriends would've said more comforting things. Bestfriends would've tried to let him feel even a little bit more secure.

So when he stormed into the room, he found her, sitting on what he guessed was his bed (Ron's looking thoroughly unkempt on the other side of the room) and saw her jump at the sight of him. She ran at him before he could say anything, and hugged him tightly. He couldn't do anything as she kept saying 'Sorry', and 'You have to understand' and 'Harry' over and over again. Soon, his hand moved up to her back, to pat her in solace. He signaled peace.

They just stood there, not letting go of each other. He hugged her properly now, and laid his head against hers.

She kept asking if he was okay. What had happened during the attack. If he was hurt. If he was still mad, and that he had a right to be. If he would forgive the two of them – Ron and her – especially her. Saying a lot of things that weren't even registering into his mind.

One thought flooded his head.

One reason as to why he had not started yelling the minute he saw her.

One reason as to why he stood bolted to the ground, holding her in his arms.

He'd seen her. Seen her after what seemed like such a long time.

And realized that he, Harry Potter, could not hate Hermione Granger no matter how terrible he'd been feeling the past few weeks.

He, Harry Potter, had come to a realization.

She meant something to him.

Possibly everything.

He'd fallen in love with his bestfriend.

**A/N: Review? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER TWO

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, giving him a hard shake.

It was all it took and he woke up. His body seemed to act on instinct, and he instantly sat up, trembling, with his breath caught up. He was looking for some sign that none of it had been real. That everything around him at that moment wasn't a dream. And he found it in her. Their bodies collided, him instantly hugging her, feeling her. Making sure that she was the real thing. She was.

And after the initial shock, Hermione held on to him, rubbing the back of his neck soothingly, while he dug his head in the crook of her neck, and tried to learn how to breath again.

"It was a nightmare," he gasped, sounding like he didn't believe himself.

"You're safe, Harry," she said quietly, looking for something to say. Something to comfort him.

"I saw him again," he found himself mumbling to no one in particular. But she was listening. She was the only person in the room.

"Who?"

"Voldemort." He heard her take a sharp inhale. He chuckled nervously. Merlin, he couldn't get a grip. He was sweating, and shaking, and literally on the verge of losing it.

"The graveyard…" she said absently, her hold on him loosening as she seemed to go over her own train of thoughts. "You were at the graveyard again," she said, understanding, and regaining her previous stature. "With Cedric." Her brow furrowed. "Harry, look at you. One nightmare leaves you looking like you've just come out of the maze. You look like…like…"

"Like I just had a relapse of events? That's what it feels like," he murmured.

"How many nightmares have you had similar to this?" she mused.

"How many nights have there been since Summer began?" he countered darkly. She gasped.

"Every night?" she said, sounding uneasy.

"Every _fucking_ night," he said bitterly.

"Harry, what happens when you wake up?"

"Nothing. This is what happens. Except I don't exactly wake up to you. Sometimes it's my Uncle yelling at me to shut up. Sometimes it's me, myself, and I'm the one yelling."

"Do you go back to sleep?"

He scoffed at her question. She got her answer.

"You need to get some sleep, Harry," she said. "This isn't healthy."

"Neither is having to face dementors, dragons, death eaters and Voldemort himself," he said angrily. "My life isn't healthy, Hermione."

She paused, and bit her bottom lip in thought.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked suddenly.

"No," he said, after a moment. "Please don't."

He sounded stupid.

"Then let's sit properly, atleast," she said. He hadn't noticed. But they were rocking back and forth slightly. Harry felt he had winded her, jumping her like that. He still had his arms locked around her waist, and she had hers locked around him. But she seemed to be struggling to keep in that position.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, and she just smiled. They readjusted, taking a seat against the headboard. He placed an arm around her, and she smiled at him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Congratulations," he said, not managing to keep the slight bitterness out of his voice.

"Being a prefect?" she asked, though she sounded happy. "I thought it'd be you, you know. Not Ron."

"Hmm," he said, letting her speak her thoughts first.

"You seemed more appropriate for it. Ron's…I dunno how he'll do as a prefect. I thought it'd be you and me, you know. Together." He smiled. "As prefects."

"It isn't, though," Harry said sadly.

"Yeah," she responded, and he was surprised because she sounded sad as well. "It would've been great, you know. But, I guess Dumbledore has his reasons."

Harry scoffed. "Like what?" he almost sneered.

Hermione tightened her grip on his arm, to bring him back to peace. He hadn't noticed their arms were interlocked and she had a hand on his.

"Harry, you're not exactly having the easiest life, now, are you?" she said reasonably. "Maybe he just wanted to lighten your load."

Harry gave it a non-committal thought. "Maybe…" he said slowly.

"But I'm so relieved. I mean I knew they didn't have a case against you, but still," she said, positively beaming, rethinking how he'd returned earlier with the news from his hearing. He kissed her on the top of her head. She blushed.

"The party's still going on, then?" he said, breaking the silence.

She nodded sleepily in his arms.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

She nodded again.

"You should get some sleep."

"No," she said decisively. "I'm already here. It's a long way to my room. By the time I get there I'll be a dead rock."

"You can stay here," he offered.

"Harry, I can't sleep here."

"Just for now. I mean, I think we've got a solid two to three hours before the party downstairs simmers down. So you can take a little nap. I'll be here. I'll wake you up."

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

He nodded solemnly.

"Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how long I've been trying to get away from downstairs."

She was about to peck him on the cheek, but he turned at that moment as well and locked lips with her.

**A/N: Okay, so I have no patience whatsoever. Anyway I think it's better, in my opinion as writer, to just start their connection here rather than later on. No promises though on whether a relationship development is immediately on hand. Please do not kill me over the ending. I will go over it in the next chapter, and expand with an explanation of the event. They kissed, all right? *Author's shrug*. Well, until next time! Read and review, please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Slight change in accord to the order of events in the book. I made sure they wouldn't kill anybody, so please forgive me. And, also...I really, really, really tried to make this something different from most of the other Hr/H stories I've read. I hope I've done this justice, otherwise I'm sorry and I promise to work even harder on the next chapter. I had to make this slightly longer because there's a lot of stuff that serves as explanations etc, etc, and the story would've been chaotic without good, solid explanations. Cheers!**

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER THREE

It was like everything was innocent, okay? That was the only way he could think of it. It sounded stupid, but that was how he felt. Like with one kiss, everything around them died out. Just like in the stupid movies. With the stupid characters. Who have their stupid, normal, non-hazardous lives.

The fact was that his life was unstable. Their entire world was unstable! They were both _raised _by muggles, _believed _that they were muggles, and then got the news swept onto them that they _weren't _as normal as they'd believed. And then life was never the same again.

So maybe, in the light of all recent events: Voldemort's return, Cedric's death, his continuous torture via the wizarding public and the Ministry and Minister, it felt good to have a little calm. A little something that reminded him that beyond everything that they were – wizards and all – they were still human.

Okay. So he'd started the kiss, and he ended it, backing away slowly, his forehead touching hers. He waited. He had no idea what she was going to do. Would she scream? Maybe punch him like she did to Malfoy a year and some months earlier?

She lifted his chin slightly, and they locked gazes. Then she shrugged slightly, smiling, and kissed him. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her body, bringing her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, doing the same. They were celebrating on their own.

He felt that he was making up for four years of pitiful ignorance. And he liked it. He liked kissing her. He liked being near her. He liked feeling…not so demented.

"Oh – damn – I'm sorry, Harry – I shouldn't be doing this," she said, breaking off. He caught her lips again, and she gave up her fight.

"No," he said. "I like this."

"You're my best friend," she gasped as his kisses travelled to her neck. She tried to pull herself away, but it was no use. He pulled her closer to him, and it wasn't as though she was ready to revolt. Why wasn't she ready to revolt?

"The feeling's mutual," he chuckled, before she pulled his lips back to her own, and they continued their frenzy.

It was like he was feeding off their kiss. Like with every passing moment all the darkness, the anger, the feeling of betrayal…the fear, as though with every kiss he was lighting them away. It was comforting, to say the least. And he knew she was feeling it. Maybe she wasn't as unlucky as him, but he knew the kiss made her feel alive.

"You're my best friend, Harry," she said, finally pulling herself away. "Should we be doing this?"

"You don't want to?" he questioned quietly.

"I love you…" she said softly.

"I –" he began, ready to respond.

"As a friend," she deadpanned. However it may have sounded, she _did _seem unsure of her answer.

He bit back the words he was about to say, and felt his mind consider what it would've sounded like if he had said what he was thinking. _Well, Hermione, if I told you I loved you, what would you say?_

He shook off the thought.

"So you don't…want to do this?" he asked slowly, thoughts processing.

"You don't like me that way, Harry," she said in no more than a squeak, and he could sense that there was something else. "And I…"

He said suddenly, "You like me."

She flinched, but didn't respond to his remark. "You liked Cho last year. You probably still like her now," Hermione said, thinking things over.

"You like me," Harry repeated.

She gave him a bitter smile.

He could've kicked himself in the head. Four years! Was he really that big of an ignorant git? How couldn't he have noticed? Yes, they were best friends. He knew _that _feeling was genuine, and would remain the same and intact no matter what. But there was more. She loved him as a friend, yes, they all knew that, but could she possibly have loved him as something more?

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said solemnly, and he broke away from his thoughts just as she reached out and kissed him once more. And with that, she left the room.

Harry cursed silently once the door shut behind her. He made his way downstairs, and saw Mrs. Weasley standing next to the dead body of Ron. All thoughts of Hermione died that minute. He couldn't move. He couldn't break his gaze. Ron...was...dead?

"Ron?" he asked, his voice coming out in a croak. He felt numb. Ron? Dead? What?

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at him. He could see her hand was trembling. She pointed her wand at the dead body of her son. "R-r-riddikulus!"

And relief washed over Harry. Ron's body the boggart – thank goodness it was just a boggart – changed. However, it didn't exactly become less terrifying. Weasley family members replaced each other – all dead. Until it stopped at him, Harry.

It was odd, indeed, staring down at his own dead body. But he didn't have time to consider it. There were footsteps, and Lupin, Sirius and Mad-Eye appeared at his shoulder. Sirius gripped Harry's shoulder tightly, but Lupin pointed his wand at the boggart and said sharply, "Riddikulus!". The boggart turned to smoke.

"I – I'm sorry!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "Please don't tell Arthur, or the children –" Without a word, Lupin and Mad-Eye ushered her out of the room, saying comforting things, assuring her that they wouldn't let anything bad happen to her family. She paused and hugged Harry tightly, and he hugged her back. He could feel her fear, her desperation. The Weasleys were practically family. He would've probably reacted in the same way. No one was truly safe now. Then she walked, Lupin and Mad-Eye escorting her back downstairs.

Harry paused. Sirius hadn't loosened grip on his shoulder yet.

"I kissed Hermione," Harry said softly.

Sirius broke out of his own trance. "What?" he said sharply.

"I kissed her," Harry said, smiling at the thought. Sirius laughed, shaking his head.

"She was coming down and I was just leaving the loo when you started screaming. She told me she'd check on it. I let her. I should've guessed, considering she was gone for a _very _long time." He paused. "What was the verdict?"

"Nightmare," Harry shrugged, feeling embarrased.

"Voldemort," Sirius countered, saving Harry from the embarrasment he knew his godson had beheaded himself with. Harry nodded, looking away. "And you kissed Hermione out of fear?" Sirius was on the verge of laughing.

"No," Harry said, a little annoyed. "I woke up, and – and – hugged her," Harry finished lamely, mentally kicking himself in the head for answering Sirius's assumption.

"All this physical contact, Harry…" Sirius said lightly, with a grin.

"It wasn't like that. I just – back to the point: I kissed her."

"And, I would say it's safe to assume that she kissed you back?"

"Yes, after I kissed her."

Sirius froze for a moment. "So there were two kisses?"

Harry thought back. "I dunno." Lame. Lame. Lame.

Sirius chuckled. "I believe that when you lose count it's called 'snogging'."

"Are you gonna listen to me, or what?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Yes, yes, James," Sirius said, clearly enjoying the conversation. "Go on."

"She told me she loved me…" Harry began.

"Good –"

"As a friend."

Sirius cringed. "Really?" he said, trying to sound casual. "And what did you say to her?"

"I told her that she likes me."

"Tact, Harry," Sirius snorted. Then with a glare from his godson, he raised an eyebrow. "And what was the verdict this time?" he asked again.

"She does. I know she does."

"I knew since third year," Sirius agreed.

"You couldn't have told me?" Harry groaned.

"I decided that it would be better to let you figure it out on your own." Sirius just shrugged, but Harry had a feeling there was something behind that. Sirius had a reason from keeping his opinions away from Harry. He was just being a godfather. Harry, as godson, would have to learn things the hard, normal way. How ironic. Harry steered their conversation back towards the point of his revelation.

"She thinks…I dunno what she thinks."

"Well, are you two together, then?" Sirius asked.

"No."

"But you want to be," Sirius stated.

Harry shrugged.

"Don't you dare give me that shrug, James!" Sirius suddenly barked, stepping forward and pointing a finger dramatically at Harry. "I know that look. I seem the determination in your eyes. I mean, ofcourse your father didn't have green eyes, but it's the same look. You like her. You want to be with her."

"Really?" Harry said, rolling his eyes to stop himself from laughing aloud. "You got that? After I told you I've kissed her, hugged her, and told her she likes me?"

Sirius couldn't muster up a reply.

"But what if I do really like her, Sirius?" Harry asked, more…well, serious.

"Then tell her," Sirius said, snorting at how obvious he thought the answer was.

"I did. She walked out of my room," Harry deadpanned.

"You told her that you think that she likes you. Very different, Harry," Sirius said with mock-gravity. "And until you tell her that yourself, you'll be stuck with that stupid look on your face that spells out Where-did-I-go-wrong, when it's pretty obvious as to where." Sirius smiled kindly.

"So, that's all you can say to help me?" Harry asked.

"You're on your own in this one, James," Sirius said casually. "I think its better that way." Chortling, his godfather walked away.

Harry groaned. _How_, exactly, was he suppose to do that?

He found himself walking back upstairs, and almost colliding with an incredibly pleased Ron.

"Harry – you disappeared! Where've you been?"

"Talking to Sirius," Harry replied, which was half the truth. He shrugged off the guilt. Bringing Ron into the situation would only make things more complicated. His best friend just had to stay in the dark during this situation. Atleast he'd get to try it this way, Harry thought darkly.

"You going somewhere?" Ron asked, as Harry kept walking when Ron stopped at their door.

"Yeah. Hermione," Harry said shortly, without even turning back.

"No, no, Harry. It's late. You should all get some sleep. It can wait 'til tomorrow." It wasn't Ron, it was Mrs. Weasley.

Harry looked ready to rebel against her wishes, but at the look on Ron's face, he followed the youngest male Weasley into their room.

All right. So it'd have to wait until tomorrow.

**A/N: Ah. I hate suspense, so you must too. Don't worry. I've already written up the next chapter, and it has a lot of...bits in it. I dunno if you'd consider this good or bad, but Harry and Hermione do have their conversation. The outcome? Well, you'll find out soon. I just need to edit a few things here and there, and then I'll post it up. Love to all who read this! (:**

**Plus I'd also like to take note that yes, I do know I listed Angst in the genre thing-y, and I have not forgotten that. However, most of the angsty stuff will appear only once they're back in hogwarts. Til then, it's not gonna be such a bumpy ride. A few stones, s'all I'm saying. Love to all who read this again! (:**

**But I've got a question for you lot: Do you think Harry would be capable of breaking Hermione's heart?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER FOUR

Harry placed a hand on the door knob to his room. He had just come out of the shower. People were right about showers: they do take a lot off one's mind. His clothes were slightly wet, and he'd dumped his old ones to be washed along with a pile that seemed to be growing larger by the day. He turned the knob and caught sight of her, standing, her back faced to him, looking outside his window. She hadn't heard him come in. Hadn't moved an inch at all. So he walked in, and closed the door quietly, walking up to her, and examining the situation.

Deep inside he had a fear of just abruptly shocking her - he knew he'd get hurt that way, intentional or not. She had completely fazed out on the world, stuck in one of her thoughts. He admired this quietly. The way she could just shut the whole world out, no matter what kind of mass destruction was going on, and think clearly and calmly. Unlike him.

She was calm. Calm and serene, and serious. Calm and -

"Stupid!" Hermione muttered quietly to herself. She must've come to some conclusion or whatever. Harry exhaled lightly, and she turned on him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, keeping his tone light.

She looked like a blank slate, and tried to hide it well. But he'd caught her in the moment. She sputtered out, "Hiding. I'd say we have a good hour and a half before we have to start cleaning. So I thought I'd pitch camp here or whatever." But he knew it was something else. She gave it a moment, then rambled on, "Where's Ron?"

"It's his turn at the shower," Harry replied. He sat down on his bed, and she sank into the armchair, staring at the floor, obviously retreating back to the sanctity of whatever it was she was thinking before he'd broken her trance. While silence drifted over them like poisonous gas, he began to think as well.

He considered his options. If he waited, there was a chance she would break the silence herself, and then start rambling again if Harry had the chance to catch her off guard. However, maybe if it got too silent, she'd just walk away, or as he termed it, run away from him and any sort of closure on the matter at hand. He had to be patient. He was going to talk to her about it today. He was going to close the subject for both of them. He liked her, and he knew she felt the same. But she didn't seem ready to discuss things. The logical thing, he supposed, was to wait for her. Let her think it over herself. Knowing Hermione, her conclusion would be more resolute than his.

However, he, Harry, was not a regularly patient person. He decided the only way to clear his head was to attack this situation head on. Sirius had told him to tell Hermione how he felt, and he would do it, one way or the other. He stood up abruptly, and knelt down infront of Hermione, his hands placed firmly on top of hers. She was not going to run away from this. Not a chance. She looked at him, and he didn't let her break contact either. He took a breath, and felt ready to say what he needed to say. She seemed to think in accord to his plan.

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked timidly, quickly turning to the floor, blushing deep crimson and looking terribly embarassed. "I wasn't suppose to say -"

But he didn't care. He broke off whatever speech he was suppose to give, and pulled her closer to him, kissing her without breaking a beat. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her off the armchair and onto the bed. He held himself slightly above her by leaning on his arms, making sure not to crush her as they fought with their lips. She didn't seem to have the will to stop him, so he stopped himself. He stared at her, beneath him, and smiled.

"You like kissing me," he concluded.

"I think you were the one who initiated the kiss, Harry," she said, smiling slightly.

"Well, that's because I like…kissing you." Pause, and then he added playfully, "And you asked for that kiss."

"You like kissing me?" she asked, giving him a look, and ignoring his last remark.

"I…like you."

"You…like me?" she asked, now giving him a completely different look, and pulling her hands away from behind his neck.

"I like you," he said, more confident now.

She smiled at him, and blushed.

"You're a prick, Harry," she said lovingly, trying to pull away from their current position.

It took everything in him not to fall on her from the shock. His mind processed the words she had just said.

"Excuse me?" he asked, confused, rolling off and sitting up, completely dumbfounded.

"You clearly haven't given any thought to whatever it is you might be feeling," she said, standing up, trying to keep things friendly.

"I have, Hermione. I know what I'm feeling. I'm not making random decisions based on –"

She cut him off. So things weren't going to remaind friendly.

"– how terrible life is at the moment?" she completed, sounding tired and sad. "Just because your life's a little _complicated_ at the –"

"_Complicated_? _Terrible_?" he spat out, a new feeling coming over him. He scoffed, standing up and pacing across the room. "You still don't _understand_, do you?" he nearly barked at her. "You don't understand what I went through. Have you tried thinking – considering you're _suppose_ to be the brightest witch in our _class_, or _age_ even – what it feels like down _my_ end?" he demanded. "Do you think that _theory_ and _memorization of spells_ would've helped you in my situation?" he sneered. "Do you think that you would've been able to see Voldemort – _Voldemort_," he repeated, just to see her flinch again, "come back and _kill_ someone you know?" he scoffed at her blank look. "Do you _think_ –"

"_Yes_, Harry! I _do_ think! And that's why I think you're rushing into whatever infatuation you've clouded your mind with –" she said, stopping to catch a breath, sounding like she was pleading with him. "_You_ have no idea!" she declared. "Yes, it was bad for you, and we might actually understand exactly how bad if you weren't so _unintelligible_ over all the screaming!" she said, her voice raising to a squeak. "I mean _look at us right now_! _We're_ yelling at each other! One person makes one comment and all of the sudden you blow up on them!"

"I'm sorry – all right?" he said loudly, his voice overshadowing hers. "I'm sorry that you all have some problem with me being a prick at the moment –"

"A completely _dense_ prick –"

"And I'm _sorry_, okay? I'm not _perfect_! _Eleven_ years of taking the Dursley's crap, Hermione! And then _four_ more years of taking even more crap from even more people? Why can't people just give me a break? And this has nothing to do with what we're talking about! I don't care about Voldemort at the moment, Hermione! I care about you. I'm trying to tell you that it's different. I know my life's not exactly some fairytale spun from yarn –"

"– yes, and that's the _only_ reason you kissed me, Harry!"

"_No_, Hermione!" he yelled, pretty sure they were causing cracks in the walls and roof. "No – _I like you_! Okay? _I like you_! Four years of you in my life, and I know I'm a blundering idiot! I know I've wasted time! But every time I look at you now I see you differently! Every time I touch you, I see you differently! And I sure as hell know that _you_ haven't changed – so it must be _me_!"

She opened her mouth, looking for a reply, but found none. His words made her speechless. He lowered his voice after that. Apparently he'd won the 'raised voice' competition, and he knew they had a matter of minutes or moments before someone broke into the room holding a wand and looking for possibly intruders.

"I like you, okay?" he said simply. He sat down, tired. So much yelling. So early in the morning. He felt her sit next to him.

"Harry, you like me _now_," she said matter-of-factly, still trying to fight him. "You like me now, because I'm here. Because you can depend on me. You like me like any guy would like their best friend." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "But when we get back to Hogwarts, there'll be other girls. Like Cho. So what's to say you'll like me then? I'm here for, I really am. But you just have to understand. You don't like me as Hermione Granger. You like me as your best friend."

He couldn't believe. Simply couldn't believe it. The girl was making her own assumptions, and it were those assumptions that were hurting her itself.

"Hermione, what if I told you that you're being very unreasonable? What if I told you that I really do like you? And that it won't matter once we're back at Hogwarts?"

He looked at her, and she could see that there was a chance that he was being serious. That he was telling the truth. He looked sad. He looked like he was trying his best to with this argument. Like it meant something to him. She took a breath, and decided to go with things his way.

"I'd say: Are you sure?"

"Then I'd say: Yes."

He looked up at her, and found her small smile, which he reflected.

"What would you want me to say then?" she asked quietly.

" 'I trust you, Harry'," he said after giving it a moment's thought.

He waited for her response. She smiled at him, and entwined her fingers with his, sighing.

"I trust you, Harry." she said. "And then what?"

"Then, 'I believe you, Harry'."

He moved closer to her. She beamed, her cheeks turning red.

"I believe you, Harry," she said, looking down. Her cheeks were burning.

He pulled her back onto the bed, and looked down at her.

"And then you'll tell me the truth," she said, her thoughts coming in line with his.

He nodded.

"So tell me the truth then, Harry," she said softly.

"I like you, Hermione Granger, for who you are, and everything you mean to me," he said quietly, the words placing themselves. She was quiet. Then she looked up at him, and he knew she believed. Knew he was hers and she was his.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" she asked, echoing her words earlier.

"By all means," he said, grinning. "Let me do the honor."

And he bent down, her lips catching his, and gave her their first kiss.

Not his.

Theirs.

**A/N: I am the stupidest person to walk the earth. I wrote this up to be sweet. Forgive me! Well, either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I got this thing - this way of writing. To make sure I stay dedicated to this story, I will not post the following chapter until the chapter which follows that following chapter is written. Meaning no chapter 5 until I've finished writing up something for chapter 6. Which also means that I have a chapter 5 waiting in store, and a chapter 6 in the making. Lots of love to readers, reviewers, subscribers and people who favorite this!**

**Oh, and I know I asked a question in the last chapter.**

**So I think I will again.**

**Just not in this chapter.**

**All questions are relevant, but they may or may not be required in the story. Eh. All I'm saying.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: PLEASE READ! in order to avoid possible confusion.**

**Here's a basic summary of the contents of this chapter without breaking it for you. Harry has a nightmare and seeks comfort with Hermione. The part later, where Harry and Ron end up talking in the kitchen and Sirius is taking pictures - that is in the past. It's the events that took place after chapter 4. Okay. Next - the highlighted section is a nightmare - Harry's latest, newest nightmare.**

**I love you guys! Thanks for the reviews! **

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER FIVE

The nightmare woke him up. He literally rolled out of the bed, his head coming in contact with the floor. Not his ideal routine. It was starting to bother him. It made him tired and edgy. He groaned slightly, his limbs unused and already bruised. He heaved himself up, and dragged himself back onto his bed, reaching for his glasses.

"Something trying to kill you, Harry?" Ron murmured from his bed, and Harry took a glance at him.

One of his legs was hanging off his bed, but he didn't look likely to completely stumble out like Harry had just done. His eyes were closed.

"No," Harry said quietly.

Ron made a sound, and after a minute was found to be snoring again. Harry shook his head at his best friend, and walked out of the room. He had no idea what time it was, but it was still dark outside.

He made his way for Hermione's room, and slipped in. She was sleeping on the bed on the right, while Ginny was buried under a heap of blankets on the bed on the left. Harry went directly towards her, lying down by her side. He stared at the ceiling. She hadn't noticed a thing. It was like she'd drunk some sleeping draught. He exhaled lightly, going over his thoughts. He turned on his back and slammed his face against the pillow, sighing audibly.

Hermione's eyes bolted open.

"Harry?" she dared to ask.

She got a grunt in reply. She turned to get a proper look at him. He leaned on his left side so he could see her.

"What are you doing here, exactly?" she asked slowly.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"And?"

"I can't."

"Well," she said softly, smirking, "maybe it's because you're not in your bed."

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I –"

"Nightmare," she cut him off understandingly. He only bowed his head. She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. He pulled her close, and pushed his lips against hers.

The friction worked like, excuse the pun, magic. His lips battled hers. He drew her close, his hands resting on her arm, before going down to her hip. She scooted even closer, messing up his hair more than possible. He turned them over so he was on top. He kissed her deeply. Trying to convey all frustrations. All devotions. Her hands rested against his chest, pulling at his shirt so he landed almost flat on her. Their bodies connected. He felt a new emotion rise into his head. He needed her. Their bodies grinded. He could feel her legs – she was wearing shorts. He trailed kisses down her neck, before stopping all of the sudden. He leaned on his elbows so he could see her face properly. He couldn't believe how alive he felt. Was that adrenaline?

"You're something, you know," he whispered, burrying his head in the crook of her neck and giving her a soft kiss.

"Yes," she breathed out. "And it only took you four years to realize," she said, chuckling, her hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"I always had problems with understanding the obvious," he mumbled, kisses coming back up her neck towards her mouth. "Understanding was your thing." He captured her mouth, and she willingly gave it to him.

"Hmm," she murmured in agreement. Her arms wrapped around him, bringing him closer. "You're right," she whispered, breaking their kiss. She pecked him on the lips twice, then on the cheek, then on the neck, sending shivers down his back. He took hold of her before she could repeat the action, both of them struggling as it seemed likely that neither would dare to surface for air. "Harry," she mumbled into his mouth. He grunted. She broke the kiss again, but held him close to her all the same. "You came here because you couldn't sleep. I think the best thing to do in this situation is for you to get some rest." She entangled her hands in his hair lovingly, looking up at him with her brown eyes and meeting his green ones. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

It was just something unspoken. Something that had developed over the week. They'd just touch – hold hands, hug, even just a hand on the shoulder – and the noises of the world would just disappear. He wouldn't say anything until almost five minutes later. They'd just stay together. It was as complete and calm as he'd ever felt.

After what seemed like a minute of just staring, she released him of her lock, and took off his glasses, placing them on the sidetable. She kissed him once on the head, and said, "Good night."

She turned around, her back to him, her head resting on her pillow as she tried to regain calmness. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her closer, so that her head was just under his chin. He rested it lightly on top of her head.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"What do you think would've happened if I had asked you to the Yule Ball, instead of you going with Krum, and me going with Parvati?"

She seemed to muse over the topic for a few moments.

"I think it would've been great," she said simply.

He smiled, amused.

"What would've happened?"

"We would've danced, I suppose. We would've eaten too."

"And then I'd kiss you goodnight afterwards," he added.

"And then I'd wake up," she concluded.

He chuckled.

"You're awake now, and I'm real, so something must've gone right along the way."

"I'm half-asleep now, Harry," she corrected him automatically. "But yes, you are real."

"And this is real," he added, holding her tighter. She sank in his embrace.

"Like a picture," she murmured.

"Where's that picture Sirius gave you?" he asked suddenly, remembering. She reached out to the sidetable again and pulled out the drawer. She placed her hand inside, and pulled out a photograph.

It showed her and Harry, huddled up on the couch, him looking at her like she was the only one that mattered, and her looking at him like he was something out of a dream. It was soppily romantic. And if it weren't for their given relationship, with which every glance at the picture brought a bright, warm red to her cheeks, she would've probably stuffed it away out of embarassment.

The Harry in the picture reached out to his Hermione, whispering something in her ear. They both looked up as a flash went off, showing what snap was supposedly taken. Hermione was smiling at the camera, positively beaming. Glowing, even.

Harry, however, did not look at the camera. He had kissed her cheek at the same time, looking kind, and most of all – happy.

The Hermione was shocked, and laughed as Harry pushed her down the sofa, kissing her.

"You look pretty."

"You look happy."

"I am happy."

"So am I."

"It's a picture. It shows how we feel inside and how our world is to us at that moment when the picture's being taken. Is that the magic behind it?"

"Mhmm. But, it's a picture, Harry. It's suppose to depict some kind of perfection that doesn't exist in the real world."

"I dunno, 'Mione. That moment felt quite perfect to me."

She blushed, and pulled his arms around her tighter around her, resting them on her heart. "Harry. What would you say if I told you I loved you?"

"I love you too," he cut her off.

She turned, his arms still wrapped around her, and said, their faces centimeters apart, "Do you really?" she asked him, her breath tickling his neck.

"Ofcourse I do," he said, looking into her eyes. She understood at once that it was the truth, and laid her head against his chest as they finally decided to attempt sleeping.

She closed her eyes, as he fell asleep first, his hold on her somewhat loosening. He snored lightly. He sounded so tired. She tried herself to get some sleep, but she couldn't. It was…bizzare. To be sleeping with her bestfriend. Her _boyfriend_, now, actually.

Now if this was news to her, it was definitely news to everyone when they'd found out.

**O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O**

It wasn't planned. They weren't nervous. Okay, _she _was nervous. Harry wasn't.

It was just Sirius at first. Like Harry had guessed, Sirius was the one to come into the room, holding his wand out looking for whoever it was supposedly dueling Harry. Instead, he found the two of them and looking both relieved and annoyed, walked away.

It wasn't until later that night that Harry had done something openly. It was closing on nine in the evening. Everyone was just sitting around the fire. Ron was still examining his new broomstick. Fred and George were playing exploding snap with Ginny watching. Sirius was staring into the fire deep in thought, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on the armchairs, talking about Mr. Weasley's day.

Harry had come down, thrown the bottle of broom polish at Ron who beamed thankfully, and then somehow maneuvered his way on the couch, wrapping his arms around Hermione who was reading a book. He leaned his head on her shoulder, examining the contents of the page, and every one else in the room momentarily froze. It passed, however, and no one – thankfully – said anything. Ron didn't break his gaze though. He seemed to still be trying to solve the puzzle. Hermione and Harry knew he wasn't daft. They knew he'd come to the same summarization as the others, but he seemed to be having the most trouble getting over it.

"Excuse me?" he'd asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

Sirius snorted and started laughing, the twins waved a hand down at Ron and Ginny looked at the ceiling as though asking why she'd been given such a tactless brother.

"Come on," Harry said, releasing Hermione, and signing Ron to follow him. They entered the kitchen, from which only muffled voices could be heard.

Hermione remembered herself looking very embarrased, but flinched as a camera flash went off. Sirius had taken her picture. He turned then, pointing the camera at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who smiled kindly at it. Sirius then stood, stretched momentarily, and announced that he was going to find some way to develop these to see whether or not he'd be wasting his time taking pictures. He however took one more picture of the twins and Ginny before leaving, to which Ginny flinched as well and Fred and George immediately pulled funny faces at as though they'd been expecting it.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left soon after that, announcing that it was time to call it a day. Fred and George managed to steer themselves out of that argument, and Ginny just fell into step. So it was just the four of them. Hermione was staring at the fire, trying to concentrate on the voices coming from the kitchen. She could barely hear them.

"So, you and Harry, huh?" one of the twins murmured as they continued playing.

She didn't respond. She was too caught up in the fire and the voices from the kitchen.

"Hermione?" another twin asked.

"Hmm?" she said, jumping slightly.

"You and Harry?" It was Ginny this time. Hermione turned to her, curious. But Ginny grinned at her. The twins were grinning too.

"Maybe," Hermione said slowly, considering the chances she had of prolonging the truth.

"Maybe?" echoed a twin, she wasn't sure which.

"Maybe?" the other twin echoed again.

"We'd say definitely," they both chorused. _That_ was how long she could prolong it.

Ginny and Hermione looked bemused.

"Unlike our dearly demented brother," Ginny began, "we've noticed. Harry's been following you around the entire day."

"Like a puppy," quipped a twin.

"And when he's not following you," Ginny said, glaring at her brothers, "you're following him."

"Like a puppy," quipped another twin.

"Fred, George!" Ginny said in warning tones.

"That obvious, huh?" Hermione mused.

"Yes," three voices chorused.

"Oh, not to mention that despite the fact that the table was empty by eighty-percent at breakfast, he still sat next, yes, next and not across, to you," the twin on the right said. Ginny shrugged non-commitally.

"And while we were cleaning, well, while you, Ginny, Ron and Harry were cleaning," clarified the twin on the left, "he somehow appeared at your shoulder. And you smiled. Didn't look at him –"

"Didn't jump –"

"Didn't look surprised at all."

"Not to mention," Ginny said, looking at her brothers with a bemused look, "the fact that everyone in this house could hear the two of you during your verbal battle this morning."

"And somehow Ron didn't?" Hermione asked, doubtful.

"Ron sings in the showers, Hermione," a twin said – George? Fred? – looking very serious.

"Yes. Loud. Terrible, but loud," the remaining twin said.

"He likes you a lot," Ginny noted. "Harry."

"You think so?" Hermione asked quietly, searching her friend for an answer. Approval maybe? Consent? It was no guessing-game that Ginny had previously fancied Harry. Maybe up until now?

Ginny rose to the occasion, and beamed.

"He looks the happiest he's been since he arrived here," Ginny said, grinning.

"And you –" the twin on the right said.

"Fred!" Ginny said warningly again.

"And you –" the twin on the right – Fred – continued, "look positively charmed. Bashful even, I'd say."

"We're happy for you two, Hermione," Ginny said.

"Alas, but Ronald!" George said dramatically, spotting his brother.

"Shut up, you git!" Ron said weakly as he and Harry strode out of the kitchen.

Ron stopped shortly at the stairs, and glared at the audience below.

"I'm okay with it, I'm happy for you two, I just need time to get used to this," he said very quickly, before trudging upstairs.

"He's okay," Harry said, sitting next to Hermione.

She gave him a skeptical look.

"Oh, no, that is Ron being okay," Ginny commented from afar. "_Trust _me."

Hermione looked up at Harry for confirmation. Harry gave her a non-commital shrug. Sirius had come downstairs holding two photographs. He passed one to Ginny, who snorted at the sight of it, and headed over to Hermione and Harry, holding out the next. He stuck it out, and Hermione reached for it, but Sirius pulled it back, and shook his head. He held it out again, but nearer to Harry.

Harry took it, looking at Hermione for some reason behind all of it, and looked down at the picture.

And there she was.

Looking nervous and worried again, before looking up and giving him a one-of-a-kind smile. He grinned at the picture, and Hermione groaned, reaching for it. But Harry pulled it away. He was going to keep this.

She gave him a pout, to which he pulled her by the chin and kissed her.

Sirius, graciously ofcourse, snagged a picture of it, to which Harry later replied to with a 'Sirius, you need to put that back where you found it.'

**O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O**

Hermione took another deep breath, smiling at the memory. She scooted slightly, and closed her eyes. She still had time. She could still get some sleep.

**O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O**

_"Hello?" Harry found himself asking. He was in a corridor. It was dark. There was a lone light, coming from behind a door. A door that was open by what looked like an inch. "Hello?" he called out again._

_He made his way forward, reaching into his pocket for his wand. It wasn't there. He tensed slightly, but shook off the feeling. Cautious, he continued walking._

_"Is anybody there?"_

_He did recognize the place. It made him realize that it was all just part of his nightmare. Every once in a while he'd visit this place instead of the graveyard. It made no sense. There was nobody there except him. Yet it was odd. And it sent chills down his spine. It was just a long hall. He began to hear murmurs from the door. He couldn't make anything out. The people speaking were doing so in hushed tones._

_The situation made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He felt a shiver. He was so near…_

_He was reaching out to the door…_

_And then, all of the sudden, he fell. Now this, this was different. He was sure. He'd fallen into complete darkness. He couldn't see anything. The previous vibe of his earlier journey had completely disintegrated. He was no longer wary and uncomfortable. It wasn't some spooky thrill._

_He was genuinely frightened now._

_"Is anybody there?" he yelled. He heard the whispers again, coming closer to his ear. It started to hurt. Like static._

_"Harry…Potter…" a voice called out. He whipped around, searching for some indication in the dark. "I know…" the voice said, almost singing. Singing with hate, and with joy. "I know…your deepest…fear…"_

_Then the light burst. It was like the whole area had suddenly been set ablaze. The light was blinding. He raised his arm, shielding his eyes, until the bright lights dimmed down. And he was sweating. His heart was racing. He looked up._

_No._

_"Cedric?" Harry asked in disbelief. Cedric stared at him. His eyes were hollow and sad. He was covered in dirt and blood. He was wearing the exact same thing the day he…the day he…_

_"I'm sorry, mate," Cedric shrugged, looking slightly pained. He turned, starting to walk away._

_"Wait!" Harry screamed, jumping to his feet and reaching forward. Another hand pulled him back._

_"Harry!"_

_"Hermione?"_

_Okay, he was particularly not liking how this nightmare was going._

_She was holding on to him, and the scene changed entirely. It was no longer a hall. It was no longer darkness. It was no longer light. It was a room. A room?_

_He looked around, and found a crib. He was in a nursery. He peeked into the crib, but found no baby. What the -?_

_"Harry!" Hermione again. He turned towards the door. She ran up and clutched at him, shaking. "He's coming! He's coming for you! You have to go! Now!" she said frantically, grabbing at his shirt, and reaching out for her own wand. She turned around, her back to him._

_"What? Hermione – no!" he screamed, trying to pull her away – trying to protect her instead of having it the other way around._

_"He knows! He knows and he's going to kill you!"_

_"He knows? What does he know?"_

_She just gave him a pained smile for that._

_They both looked at the door, and heard audible footsteps. Then the door was blasted off it's hinges, and a bright green light filled the room. Harry reached out to save her, but she was gone. He felt like he was falling again, through the green flash, until he hit the ground._

_Where was he?_

_Oh._

_The graveyard._

_He looked around, and spotted her, a few feet away. He lunged forward, stumbling, half-running, half-crawling towards her. He landed just next to her. Her eyes were closed. Her lips turning blue. Her skin pale. He felt for a pulse. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Oh, he prayed that he wasn't. He couldn't feel anything. He bent his head down, inches from her face._

_"Hermione?" his voice trembled._

_"Your…deepest…fear…" the voice from the darkness. The voice that made his skin crawl._

**O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O**

"NO!" Harry screamed, jumping as he woke, bashing his head against someone else's.

"Ow," Hermione muttered, cringing. Harry took one look at her worried eyes. He felt cold. Cold and sweaty. His hands shook. He reached for his glasses, and put them on. She grew clearer. She was real. Alive.

He was _awake_.

"Harry, what –"

But he got out of the bed, and ran out the room, slamming the door swiftly behind him.

_He knows._

_Voldemort knows._

**A/N: Oh, Hi there! Incase you were just confused by what you just read - please read the author's note at the top of the chapter. Thank you.**

**Incase you aren't, then yes, scary isn't it? Does Voldemort really know something? Gasp!**

**Next, on the issue of Ron - yes, he's not going to be a blundering idiot. He accepts Harry and Hermione's relationship, as does Ginny, although it may be a little hard to get used to. **

**Next to that next, yes, like we all know from reading the book - there is a reason why Harry needed Occlumency. Anyway, yes, Old Voldy does know something. But I'm not gonna make this story similar to those where Harry leaves her to keep her safe.**

**Next to that nexted next, in the nightmare, where they're in a room with a crib, that was supposedly Harry's room when he was a baby in their old house. Yeah.**

**And lastly:**

**I know this took a long time. I've got excuses - I mean, reasons. Haha. Anyway, basically it's school, for one. But furthermore I thought I needed to pace this slightly. Plus, this wasn't actually what I'd written up when I wrote that note in chapter 4 stating I already had a chapter 5. The one I had was quite different from this but basically had the same beginning. I just had to go with the idea. It's probably long, I dunno, or maybe it's short, whichever. I hope I didn't make it confusing up there, I haven't fully re-read it to mark out errors like the previous chapters because it's almost one here in the morning and I just finished writing.**

**So far there are 5240 hits for this story, 52 story alerts and 33 favorites. I think we can do better, right? So please review! **

**Love to all the readers of this!**

**It goes out to my best friends (:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Dedicated to HermioneMartinez for messaging me to finally get to my laptop and update this story. I cannot thank you enough.**

**Make Me Believe**

_If I Told You I Loved You, What Would You Say?_

CHAPTER SIX

"GET UP!"

Harry gave a shout as he felt his covers tighten around his ankles and pull him straight off his bed onto the floor. His entire body was woken up rudely to Sirius' mock-cheerful bellow.

He could already feel his irritation with his godfather increasing as he struggled to find his way out of his covers, which seemed magically tasked with keeping him a prisoner. The dust had already risen off the floor and entered his eyes and nose, and he was on his way to coughing and wheezing when the door slammed into the wall with a quick rush of the air and there was a second voice even louder than Sirius' – and she was pleading.

"SIRIUS, DON'T! Please."

Hermione?

She sounded flustered and embarrassed, immediately lowering her voice to an urgent whisper. Harry found himself trying his hardest to get out of the linen mess and started reaching up into the air and swatting his hand helplessly against his side table, searching for his glasses.

He finally found them, and almost crushed them in his own hand out of desperation before the covers suddenly dropped limp. Harry was already panting by then, his cold sweat mixing with the warm one and the sickening feeling regurgitating in his stomach. He put on his glasses, and the entire room came into focus.

Sirius was standing at the foot of his bed, his wand hanging lazily in his hand. His arms were folded, and he was looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. Hermione looked more worried, her eyes travelling from godfather to godson, then back again to godson. And Ron was still in his bed, his pillow folded around his head and sandwiching it, trying his best to get some more sleep.

"-I will talk to him," Hermione was murmuring with a frown.

"-well, I am most certainly unwilling to wait for such a thing to happen," Sirius muttered back to her, before clearing his throat. "Hermione is going home, Harry," Sirius said, aiming his statement pointedly at his godson. "Is there anything you'd like to say in reaction to this?"

Harry has nothing. He was too busy staring at Hermione as she fixed her eyes on a spot on the floor far away from him, determinedly avoiding his gaze. She was leaving? Hermione never left mid-vacation or mid-visit. She always arrived and stayed. Arrived...and...stayed.

He could already feel the guilt nagging at his insides. He could already understand Sirius' loud wake up call, because he had, indeed, been ignoring Hermione for the better of the past three days. Things got particularly awkward the night before though, when he had been walking down the stairs and she had been climbing up them and suddenly they were both on the platform, face-to-face...and he had just stuttered and stammered before side-stepping her and making a quick escape. He could still remember the lack of sound and footsteps, which told him she was still rooted to the spot, obviously analyzing and over-analyzing his fluster, just like Hermione always did. But he did know that no good conclusion could come of his actions. He just wanted to have some time to think things over himself, and some time to breathe and calm himself. Every glimpse of her, her smile, her laugh...every glimpse of how alive she was reminded him of how dead he'd seen her in his nightmare. Every look at her gave him two equally confusing feelings.

There was the jump he felt in his chest, which he knew was related to how much he did love her. And then there was the sinking feeling in his gut, because he knew right then that he could never really be hers.

There was too much on the line, or actually there was just one thing on the line: her life.

And it wasn't as though he was being dramatic, because Voldemort really did seem in favour of killing all the people he knew. Voldemort really did seem in favour of torture. And Voldemort really did seem to oppose love.

And if Hermione died...well, then there was no point for Harry, then, was there?

"Children, the both of you," Sirius snorted, before turning on his heel and leaving. He first though managed to give Ron a light slap in the head, to which the redhead bolted awake and angry and followed Sirius out of the room. Harry stood up and gathered his covers, throwing them on the bed, sitting on the end of it, and motioning for Hermione to do the same.

"Don't go home, please," he said quietly.

Hermione still kept her eyes anywhere but his, instead focusing on a part of his hair as she reached forward to pat it down. He felt a very familiar chill run up his spine at her touch, and closed his eyes momentarily before taking her hand in his own.

"Voldemort is back," he told her as though she didn't already know. Hermione flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, but pressed her lips together in a grim smile.

"I know this, Harry," she said amicably, their hands already playing their own little game, fingers intertwining, twirling, tracing.

"I'd almost forgotten," he replied honestly, before giving a light chuckle. "You have a way of making me forget things, Hermione." He looked up to meet her eyes, caught in the moment and caught off guard. "I like that about you." He sighed. "But Voldemort is back, and I don't know all the pieces of the puzzle yet, but I do know that he fancies himself killing me off."

The twirling and tracing stopped then, and she was just holding his hand. She inched closer to him and he pulled his arm around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He could hear her breathing, feel her weight rise and fall back onto him, and it steadied the both of them for a while.

"Do you remember back in first year," she began softly, her voice calm, almost ripping at his heart right then. "When you told Ron and I that we could still turn back, that we could still walk away?"

He nodded in response, unable to say anything, but she already knew that he remembered that.

"Do you remember what we said then? What I said then?"

"But this is different," he whispered painfully.

"Why?" she looked up then, her eyes pleading with him, searching his own.

"Because we're different."

Hermione smiled and straightened her, and shook her head playfully. "We're not that different now."

Harry almost laughed at this attempt to lighten the mood, before his hand found its way to hers once again and he found himself egging her on by saying, "How so?"

"Well," Hermione said surely, straightening her posture and giving him a reassured stare. "I think I already loved you back in first year."

Harry laughed right then, unable to hold back anymore. He drew her in once again into his arms, and she fit right it once more, making things so uncanny, so surreal that he felt as though he was finally having one of those good dreams.

"But what if he knows? What if he can tell that you mean so much to me, and what if he destroys whatever that 'much' means?" he asked.

"What if he doesn't manage to destroy it?" she countered meaningfully, their palms flat against each other.

"Hermione, I am always going to be asking myself What If questions."

"Will you stop asking yourself What If questions by ignoring me? By shutting me out?"

"No."

"Then don't shut me out, and keep asking yourself those What If questions."

"Is it really that easy?" he asked, smiling.

"Not everything is complicated, Harry."

"What if I slip up?"

"What if you don't?"

"What if I'm not there to protect you?"

"What if I can protect myself?"

"What if I die?"

"You won't."

"What if I die –"

"You won't."

"Hermione –"

"You won't," she said shortly, pulling herself away from him and looking him straight in the eyes. "You won't. You won't. You won't," she repeated to him and herself, her hands clasping each other as she rocked slightly back and forth, trying to give her best encouraging smile. "You won't." She could already feel her hands trembling, and her smile faltering. "You won't."

Harry reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug, and actual hug, and she dug her face into his shoulder.

"I won't," he told her firmly.

"You won't," she added, voice sounding less sure than it started.

"I won't," Harry reaffirmed.

"You won't," she whispered. "And I want to be right there – right at the end, when you don't die. Because you won't."

"Because I won't," he agreed. "And no, I am not going to let you be there."

"You'd be lost without me," she joked lightly.

"I'd manage," he said defensively. Hermione just gave him a knowing smile. "I would."

"What if you need me there by your side?" she asked him quietly, biting her bottom lip slightly.

"What if I do..." he murmured pensively.

"What if I could help? What if being at your side stops you from worrying about whether or not I'm safe?"

"Double standard!" Harry scoffed.

"But what if," Hermione persisted. "What if I could help?"

"What if you could also help by staying far away?"

"What if you can't keep me far away?"

Harry chuckled. "Then we have a problem."

"I like problems," Hermione said, smiling.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

She followed his actions and leaned forward as well. They were just a couple of inches apart when she pulled back, smirking.

"I like solving them."

"I know that," Harry replied, chuckling slightly. She leaned forward again, stopping once more.

"I like you being unable to solve them without my help."

"I can solve problems," he scoffed.

"With my help," she added.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night," he offered.

"I like knowing the answer," she added, their lips already so close.

"Mhmm," Harry managed, wanting to crash him lips onto hers at that moment, wanting to end the tension she was creating by holding out the kiss.

"I like knowing that I was right all along," she continued.

"Hermione..." he breathed.

Her hands clenched at his collar, pulling him backwards until she was flat on her back and he was sustaining himself above her using his hands and knees. He bent down, but was interrupted again by her.

"I like helping you find the answers too," she added.

"You didn't seem to like doing such when we having Transfiguration quizzes."

"Because that's cheating," she replied simply, smiling her smile for him and breaking him into pieces again. She raised her hands to lock around his neck and pulled him close.

His forehead laid against hers, and he could almost feel his knees and hands trembling from the pressure of trying to keep his body off hers. He could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, if not hers, and he could almost feel the pressure of so much contact to be made, and so much restraints to be kept.

"But I think I just really seem to like you, Harry," she finally said, smiling as she pushed him back a little and their lips finally met.

"I'm a little too fond of you myself, 'Mione," he replied as they went at it, his lips and hers, touching, then clinging, then separating for miniscule moments, then meeting again.

He leaned upwards at that, supporting her back as she held on with her arms around his neck, his heart already beating in his ears as they kissed. Her hands were kneading around his hair, and he was just feeling her back, his hands aching to go under her shirt all of the sudden. The feeling was new, fresh and definitely addictive. They finally broke the kiss, and he was already sweating beyond what he had been when he woke up, his hands still supporting her back as he fell back down onto his bed. Hermione pulled back finally, and stood up, stretching. She turned to leave, and he reached for her hand, pulling her back.

"Where're you going?"

She smiled at him, and pulled away slowly.

"I have to unpack."

**A/N: I'm not really gonna say much anymore, except that I'm sorry, and I know this probably doesn't make up for the months of non-updates. I just got kinda lost there, and now I'm back again. So yes – everybody raise your glass to Updates! **

**Please forgive possible grammatical errors. I didn't comb through this as efficiently as I should've. **

**I'll try to reserve some time for combing in later chapters.**

**Thanks for the reviews, the favourites, the alerts.  
**

**Andandand Please Review! **


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